


Hurt

by SpankedbySpike



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpankedbySpike/pseuds/SpankedbySpike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is seriously hurt in a hunt and Dean and Sam come to the rescue as each Winchester reacts differently to the event and yearn for more comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Pre-series, Dean is 18 and Sam 14
> 
> Prompt: John needs care too ~ John gets seriously hurt on a hunt (not enough to cause fatal injuries) and Dean, Sam or both find him and take care of him. [info]angelus2hot on July 22nd, 2011 12:52 am (UTC). This is part of the prompts posted at Unwritten Character Meme, John found here: http://theron09.livejournal.com/144022.html?thread=2000790#t2000790

Hurt, SbS (September 2011)

 

John was shivering. The dew on the grass pearlescent around him, the dawn ready to fade and another hot day beginning. He wished he could enjoy the view; the stars twinkling in the sky, the breeze flowing through the trees and unsettling a few leaves on the mossy ground… He wished he wasn’t in so much pain. His muscles were screaming, his bones were cracked, and his blood was seeping into the hard ground. He had won another battle, vanquished one more demon, but at what price? He felt like he was dying and worried about his two sons; the pride of his young life. His eyes were closing of their own volition but still he fought. He wouldn’t let himself fall asleep and allow a simple concussion to take him down. John started humming. He hummed classic rock tunes he had listened to on the radio while driving to this hunt. He remembered playful songs he had sung to his boys, and sweet melodies he had learned as a child. He watched the sun rise and the blue sky expand in the horizon; the pain in his body came and went. The forced paralysis wasn’t as bad as the fact he couldn’t reach Dean and Sam. Being impotent wasn’t even a notion associated with John Winchester and he had hoped he could grab the bulky little phone now sadly laying too far to make a difference… He had stopped wishing he could move; in this moment in time the only thing he wanted was to hold his children in his arms and talk to them.

***

Dean was going berserk. Dad was supposed to have been back by now. It was a simple hunt. His father had been more than prepared for it and that had included charging his new cell phone. Dean looked down at the faded carpet in his and Sam’s bedroom... There was a distinct track on it illustrating the nervous teenager’s back and forth path. Sam woke with a start hearing his anxious brother pacing like a caged lion, fear crashed on him that something bad had happened to their father, there wasn’t anything else that would make Dean this uneasy. Sam was only 14 but since he found out what his daddy did for a living Sam feared as much for the man’s safety as Dean did, even if he didn’t always admit it.

“Dean, what is it?” He ushered quietly, sitting up in his bed.

“Dad won’t answer his phone. He should have been back already. He was going to finish up this hunt in a few hours and take us out to breakfast. He promised.”

“Maybe he ran out of gas or lost his phone...”

Sam was conflicted about how he felt about hunting. Why should his daddy be the one to do the dirty work of the world, forcing them all to live this bohemian lifestyle? He was concerned though, Dean was always collected when their father was gone, trusting their dad, and the purpose of their lives with a serene blind faith that always made those waiting sessions less stressing than they could have been.

Dean sat on the edge of Sam’s bed. “You think so? Something that simple?”

“I don’t know but I can’t wait here, with you worried. I’ll go crazy!” Sam’s sincerity must have swayed Dean, because next thing Sam knew, the rumpled sheets were pulled down and his brother was holding out a hand to help him out of bed. They both dressed in silence, adding layers of clothes, adjusting the sheaths of their knives, checking each other over discretely to make sure they had what they needed. They each used the restroom quickly. Dean filled up a back pack with things they might need if they found their father or the thing he was hunting, and they headed out.

Dean had never been happier to have his own car. When he turned eighteen, dad had given him the Impala, and gotten a truck for himself. Both boys quickly got into the vehicle and began their trip to where John said he would be. The journey was tense, and quiet. Neither of them wanted to listen to music, instead they were busy with their thoughts on their father, where he was, wondering if he was okay, some of their worries randomy eased by bouts of optimism and hope. After all, John Winchester was the best hunter out there, nothing could stop their father!

They reached the entry of the State park two hours later and soon after found their father’s truck. Everything looked fine. The windows were closed, the inside of the car looked neat and the doors were locked. They started to panic a bit, hoping that Sam had been right about dad just running out of gas and waiting for some help, so it had to be something else, hopefully nothing worse.

The brothers fanned out and started calling for their dad, walking as silently as possible, so as not to miss out on the faintest sound of their father. Dean finally found traces of someone going somewhere they weren’t supposed to. He hoped it was his father, as this part of the park was closed off to the public. Following the path wasn’t easy, the forest became dense, and the silence eerie, but the boys kept up their search party.  
Sam hated this. The feeling of helplessness was smothering him. He felt small and lost. He walked a little closer to his big brother, needing some reassurance that everything would be alright. Dean must have sensed his discomfort. He put and arm around Sam’s shoulders and crushed Sam to his side. They walked this way for a long time, both staying quiet. Sam watched his brother in awe as he continued with the tracking. His spirit started to come back, his brother will find their dad no doubt about it. Finally, a clearing came into view and without consulting each other, they both started to run towards it, and there, in a sunny patch laid their father. He was turned towards them, his fingers on the trigger of the gun laying on his chest. He was weary but still ready for a fight…

“Dad!” John couldn’t tell which of his kids called, but he was so happy to see them. He pinched himself just to verify he wasn’t dreaming. They were on him in seconds, talking at the same time, asking him questions and while Sammy was holding his free hand, Dean checked his father over for injuries, exactly the way John did his sons if he thought they might be hurt.

John could obviously turn his head, the range of motion was good, so his neck was fine. John shifted every time Dean touched one of his wounds so his spinal cord wasn’t severed; he was certainly vocal enough with the manly grunt he let go for each visible injury. Overall, the worst had been avoided, so why couldn’t his father raise himself enough to reach for the phone not 10 feet away? “Dad, can you move?” Dean asked with concern.

“I tried son, but my back won’t twist. I feel the pain in my legs but can’t seem to really move them.” Dean turned his head away from his father, not wanting to show the man how scared he was over all this, but John knew what he was thinking. He grabbed Dean by the shirt and pulled him close to him. “Focus Dean. Me and Sammy we both need you, right now!” Dean fought back tears but nodded at his father. He wouldn’t let his family down.

Dean backed up a bit from his father and pulled out his cell phone. With shaky fingers, he dialed 911,whispering about a hunting accident, describing what he could from the condition in which John was, and giving as precise as possible directions to the calm voice on the other side.

Dean disconnected the phone, ready to help stabilize his dad. He rummaged in his backpack and got out the first aid kit he brought with him. He directed Sam to try to hide anything around their father that would look suspicious; that would reveal more than just a plain hunting accident. He needed his brother to focus on being useful and not compute everything else that could be or go wrong. Reassured the teenager will accomplish this task flawlessly, the young man turned to his father again. “Dad? What do you need me to look at first?”

“My right shoulder hurts. I might have dislocated it.” Dean put his hand on his dad’s shoulder. His father was right. Damn it.

“All right dad, on the count of three I’ll set it, okay?” Dean stated. “One, two…”Dean fixed the shoulder at two. The noise was sickening but the motion stayed clean and he took a clean tee-shirt to swipe the sweat beading on John’s forehead.

“I knew you were going to do that.” John said shaking his head, a small smile creeping on his parched lips. “Thanks. Boys help me to stay up. The only thing I want right now is to sleep.” John had fought tooth and nail up to this point not to doze, and didn’t think he had the strength anymore. He was pretty sure he had a concussion and wasn’t going to slip into a coma without a fight.

Dean and Sam both looked at each other. Dean knew exactly what he could do. He confessed to his father some of the things he had done lately that he wasn’t supposed to. John started to look pissed, but hell the frustration kept him up. Sam griped that Dean was going to give their dad a heart attack on top of everything else, and John sternly said that he and Dean would be having themselves a nice little talk as soon as he got better, but as upset as he was at Dean, he couldn’t be anymore proud of his children right now, for keeping a cool head and for taking care of him. He had raised them right…

He looked around once more to make sure Sam had either put away or hid their hunting gear. The boys suggested one of them take the stuff back to the car, but neither one wanted to leave their father alone, or risk exposure by carrying around a bunch of weapons, especially with help being on it’s way. Instead, they settled on packing John’s duffel to the brim and hiding it off the beaten path, so they could retrieve it later on.

***

John was air lifted to the closest big city hospital. Dean and Sam got into the Impala and sped all the way to it. Once there, Dean stalked around in the waiting room andlet Sam fill out the paper work and answer questions.

The wait was long though, the coffee stale, the TV stuck on Jerry Springer and Sam didn’t have a book with him, so they kept themselves occupied with games of Rock/Paper/Scissors.

Finally they were ushered to John’s side, the doctor explaining that an operation was needed to fix the severed nerve paralyzing their old man but that everything should be alright. They just needed him to rest enough to be able to sustain the operation, maybe in a day or two...

***

Sam woke up drenched in sweat, heart pounding, eyes wild and searching. He settled back on his pillow after seeing his brother’s sleeping form on the bed next to his. He tried to reassure himself that everything was okay, and it really was. Dad was making a good recovery, and he and Dean were surviving without him while he was in the hospital. He kept having a bad dream though. Every night it reared its ugly head and he would wake up with a start.

In the dream he was pulled away from his family by a huge Demon, Dad and Dean were torn apart by an army, monsters for which he did not have a name, that he did not know how to fight. He started crying. He didn’t always get along with his father and brother or agree with how they lived but he didn’t want to be separated from his only family, he did not want them to be hurt, he did not want to see gore, and blood and broken bones protruding from shredded skin, Sam simply wanted everyone safe, away from harm.

Sam thought about his nightmare, on a rational level he knew it was just a manifestation of the terror he had to conceal once facing an incapacitated John. Somehow, both his Dad and brother made sure he never saw John before he was patched up after a rough hunt, shielding the baby of the family from the gruesome reality of the hunting life. He wished he was still protected from the horror, even though he knew he had pissed both men off this past year by insisting on being treated as an adult, to join in the hunt, he had to face the reality. He wasn’t ready. He just did not know how to ask for it, how not to resent the existence they led, how not to begrudge his needs for comfort and reassurance. He rolled on his side, curved on himself, pulled the blanket over his head and cried.

***

The noise Sam was making woke Dean up. Was Sam crying? His brother was 14, and insisted he was too big to cry. Dean thought his brother was full of crap. Sam cried all the time, just he hadn’t in awhile. His half asleep mind slowly came inline and he confirmed that his little brother was definitely sniffling.

Dean didn’t spend anymore time trying to rationalize his brother’s tears. It was obvious. Dean still couldn’t get everything out of his mind about what happened to their father, how close they had come to losing him, and he knew Sam felt the same way. He feared as much as Sam did for his family. Sam’s tears were perfectly acceptable, but he didn’t need to be alone right now. He shoved his blanket down and walked over to Sam’s bed. The big brother in him wanted to comfort Sammy but he didn’t want a serious chick flick moment either. Dean elbowed the kid. “Hey, Sam. I’m a bit cold. You mind sharing the bed?” Another small sniffle was heard, before the tiny broken voice of his brother replied simply “I don’t mind.”

Dean crawled into his brother’s bed staying on his back, looking at the shadows playing on the ceiling, cast by the headlights of the few cars still driving the deserted road behind their apartment. He was okay. Slowly the tension left Sam shoulders and Dean could feel Sammy worry seep from his mind, his limbs becoming looser, his breathing less ragged.

“You know, we’re all gonna be okay, right?” Dean asked. ”Look, dad isn’t going to let any nasty get the drop on him. He’s a fighter too, always has been and the doctors say he’s doing great. We’re doing pretty okay too Sammy, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.”

“You sure, he’ll always be okay with this hunting crap?” Sam choked out.

“I’d swear it to you if I could. I just trust him Sam. He’s awesome at what he does. He’s one of the best. You should see him on a hunt…” Dean continued with coaxing words and sleep claimed the two exhausted teens once more.

***

And so time continued to go by; the elder Winchester recuperating from the operation, Dean playing it cool, Sam waiting on his father like never before. John closed his eyes; this was the last night in the hospital bed, thinking about the time he just stole. Moments he never trusted he could have; no yelling, no doubting, his kids playing calmly most of the time, boisterously by lunch time, reading peacefully in the early evening and joking with him. The boys were being facetious with his food –and John could understand that, who even called this food-, teasing with his remarks –and he could swear, they were pointed, but maybe he was getting soft in his old age-, clowning around with the new tools and equipment surrounding him in this room that became their second home.

John Winchester couldn’t stop from being weary at night though, there, all his doubts came to the surface, they couldn’t be drowned by the racket his sons were making. He couldn’t stop the nightmares from grabbing his exhausted body, his stressed mind and showing him images of pain, and death, and separation. And he was waking up startled, panic in his dark eyes, more afraid for his children than ever before and then after a sip of water and letting his eyes adjust to the dark, he’d smile, remembering their antics of the day. He’d see the depth of love between the two siblings, the impressive preparedness Dean was showing, the clever way in which Sam was working his brother and knew that if only he did one thing right, it was in making these two kids stronger, brighter, funnier than the dark forces surrounding them. And he could fall back to sleep, the discomfort of his aching muscles, smarting cuts and tender joints forgotten, the contentment of knowing the work he did mattered and the only family he had cared for him in ways he had neglected to see and cultivate. He fell asleep promising to remedy the situation, promising to himself that whatever may come, he’ll show them the love, and he will thank them the only way he knew how, by staying alive, teaching them what he knew, and giving them the breaks they needed. They would really grow up to be the best they could ever be, and, he, would be counting his blessings.

 

The End.

 

Thanks for reading, it's appreciated!  
Crossposted at my LJ http://spankedbyspike.livejournal.com/17104.html


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